I let strangers practice strangling me

I just want you all to know how much time and creative effort went into this featured image. Look at this collage! Let me break it down for you because I know it’s a lot to take in all at once.

So you know how in basketball games people hold up a sign that has the letter ‘D’ on it and then a sign with a fence painted on it when they’re encouraging defense? Or a real fence if you’re that die-hard about your imagery.

Well because I went to a self-defense class I made a pictogram of myself, the letter ‘D’ with a bunch of ‘D’s’ in it (get it? D, as in dick? But I wasn’t going to be crass and use real dicks so I used images of classy dildos, then I went down a rabbit hole of paying for stock photo images of dildos and I thought to myself this can’t be a good use of my time) and then a picture of a fence. 

You’re so welcome. 

“OK, are you the bad guy or am I the bad guy this time?” I asked the 38-year-old man breathing heavily in front of me.

“I don’t mind fighting you off,” he said with a shrug.

“Personally, I prefer being the strangler,” I said.

This all sounds very sexual. Let me explain.

This past Saturday I went to my first self-defense class and it was awesome. I have now perfected my ability to strangle people. My throat is sore and my wrist is bruised from being dragged up and down the mat, but I think I can successfully whoop some ass if needed.

Well, we didn’t really learn how to whoop ass, just protect ours. Hence, the self-defense.

This is when I left the story to go make a collage of myself and dildos. This was explained earlier so stop judging me, Samantha! She’s my imaginary frenemy who plays the mean cheerleader in my dreams. She’s very effective at motivating myself.

I am really good at staying on track with this post.

ANYWAYS (she says with a heavy sigh and an eye roll) I had wanted to take a self-defense class for years but never got around to it.

I had this small fear (that was actually a very large fear fueled by Law & Order SVU) that I would be attacked and all I would think about while it was happening was “if only I had taken that self-defense class before this”.

Kinda like how I keep carrying this fear that I’ll suddenly need health insurance really badly and I’ll wish that I had it like right now. Like right now. *cough, cough* Literally, cough, cough. Someone give me drugs.

So I finally signed up and went. I already feel immensely better having some go-to techniques in case someone lunges at me.

I have had my own experiences with aggressive men in the past ranging from frustrating to scary to traumatic so it is a great relief to have that small amount of knowledge.

Unfortunately, today while I was at the gym I had an uncomfortable experience with a man who thought it would be funny to follow me around and get as close as possible to me while making eye contact.

Eventually, he cornered me in a less populated area of the gym and I darted around him while he was momentarily distracted. I immediately left the gym.

My initial feeling was shame and then guilt for feeling ashamed. I spend so much of my free time researching women’s issues and the moment I am confronted with a bully I ran away.

I don’t know if it was the right thing to do. Maybe I shouldn’t have left and confronted him or gone to the front desk. I was torn between the feminist and traditional lessons I’ve been taught.

Do I stand up for myself because I am a strong and independent woman?

Or do I ask for help because the person behind the front desk happens to be a man and maybe this man will listen to another man?

Do I leave because I know whatever I say to this creep will not change him?

Do I stay to make a point that he can’t intimidate me?

Because he did intimidate me. He made me feel small and aware of my body in a place where I was trying to take care of it.

The self-defense class taught me how to get out of a stranglehold and how to remove my arm from various tight grips, but it did not teach me how to defend myself from people like him.

The cat-callers, the wolf-whistlers, the gawkers, the ones who don’t touch but want to.

It is disappointing. And yes, I make dildo-based collages, but that doesn’t mean I don’t deserve to feel safe at my local gym.

Xoxo,

Funny Girl